


Misfits

by esteefee



Series: Misfits [1]
Category: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, Gen, Holidays, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay is a <s>toy elf</s>  <s>dentist</s> theoretical astrophysicist. John Sheppard is <s>one of Santa's reindeer</s> a blacklisted, red-nosed renegade, Ronon Cornelius Dex is a <s>prospector</s> Bumble Killer and Teyla Emmagan is a <s>Smiling Sally Doll</s> Perimeter Sentry at the Island of Misfit Toys.  Other cast as needed.</p><p>For Week #6 <a href="http://sga-saturday.livejournal.com/tag/week%20%236%3A%20pariah">Pariah</a> prompt at sga-saturday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misfits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilyfarfalla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyfarfalla/gifts).



> ...because this is totally and irredeemably her fault, although I do remember hearing it mentioned once in a conversation that Atlantis was the island of misfit toys. If anyone else cares to step forward and claim the concept, please do so. Credit for this nightmare will then belong to you.
> 
> No offense meant to sentient bunnies.

  


 

"Rodney! Aren't you finished painting that wagon yet? There's a pile-up a mile long behind you, and we only have six months until Christmas." The Toy Master Elf loomed over Rodney. "What's eating you, boy?"

Rodney looked up from where he was adjusting the wheel base of the stupid, piece of shit toy wagon that would probably fall apart two minutes after the stupid kid got it for Christmas. "Not happy in my work, I guess," Rodney muttered.

"What?"

"I just don't like to make toys," Rodney enunciated clearly.

"Oh, well, if that's all—what?" The Toy Master shouted mockingly down the table at the other elves, "Rodney doesn't like to make toys!"

The other elves all repeated it down the line, picking up the scandalous refrain. "Shame on you, Rodney," they cried.

"You mind telling me what you do wanna do?" the Toy Master asked.

"Well," Rodney said, pondering, "I've always been partial to theoretical astrophysics."

:::

"You'll wear it and like it!"

"Ib's nob vewy comforbable," John said, rubbing at the cap of mud his father had stuck on his shining nose.

"There are more important things than comfort," Donner Sheppard said. "Like self-respect. Now just get out there and do your stuff."

John hunched his back and tried to join in the reindeer games. While he was waiting for his turn at flight training, he met this awesome looking doe. Things were definitely looking up.

"Hi," John said. Jeez, she was hot. She was wearing a bow and everything. And she had total foal-bearing hips.

"Nice day," the doe said.

"Yup."

"For take-off practice, I mean."

"Yup."

"I bet you'll be the best."

John ducked his head. "Aw, I dunno."

"Something wrong with your nose? I mean, you talk kinda funny."

"What's so funny 'bout the way I talk?"

"Well, don't get angry; I don't mind."

"You don't?" John's heart leaped. Maybe she wouldn't mind about his freakish, glowing nose after all.

"My name's Clarisse."

"My name's John," he started to say, but then Coach was calling him back for his turn at take-off practice.

"Hey, John," Clarisse whispered in his ear just as he turned to go, "I think you're hot."

"She thinks I'm hot. She thinks I'm hot," John said, bounding back toward Coach, bounding and leaping and then, _whoa_ he was flying! He was flying just like his dad, and everyone was _oooh_ -ing.

"Magnificent!" said Coach when John landed in a sprawl next to him.

"She's way into me," John confided to Fireball, one of the other young bucks, and they started playfully clashing horn stubs.

Big mistake, because the stupid cap came right off his nose, and Fireball's eyes wigged out when his nose started glowing, and then everyone was laughing and freaking out and calling him names.

Santa said he was sorry, but he put a black mark on John's sleigh review form just the same.

Fuck them all, anyway. He knew how to fly, now. John was so out of there.

:::

Problem was, young reindeer could only fly for very short distances. Like, a few hundred feet. He found a nice snowbank and set down to snack on some green.

Two seconds later a head popped out of the snow, startling the fuck out of him.

"Oh, is this your snowbank? I beg your pardon. Maybe you should have put up a sign or something."

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Rodney. I'm a theoretical astrophysicist. Or I'm going to be, anyway."

"A what? What is that?" John tilted his head to see him better. "Funny, you look more like an elf."

The elf rolled his eyes. "So?"

"So, shouldn't you be making toys?"

"Shouldn't you be joining the reindeer games?"

That hurt. "They won't let me." Anger made John's nose glow just below his sight line, and he saw Rodney's eyes widen. "Yeah, now you can see why."

"But that is so interesting! Wait, hang on." The elf pulled something from his pocket and started tapping on it. "My goodness. You're producing the most incredible energy signature from that thing. However are you doing that?"

"I have no idea. Do you know how you make snot?"

"Ew. No." Rodney smirked. "You know, I bet I could do something with that nose of yours. We could use it to power some sort of device—"

"You mean you don't mind it? Really"

"No, not if you don't mind my being...a theoretical astrophysicist."

John felt a thrill. "Actually, that sounds kinda cool."

"Then I see no reason why we couldn't, ah, combine our efforts. Pool our resources."

"Sounds like a plan. My name is John, by the way. John Sheppard."

"Yes, yes, pleasantries and all that." Rodney waved his hand. "Speaking of resources, you wouldn't happen to have any food?"

:::

So, Rodney had found himself an actual friend. And a ride. Sheppard the reindeer didn't have the strength to fly him as yet, not being fully grown, but he let Rodney ride him for short distances. And he was very warm to cozy up to at night, although Rodney wouldn't be caught dead saying that out loud.

It was too bad Santa was stationed in the North Pole, because Rodney had read about an installation in Antarctica doing research that was pertinent to his interests. However, for now he was satisfied with heading toward the North Pole Environmental Observatory.

John, apparently, was happy just following Rodney, which was pretty flattering. Every so often John would take off and fly high enough to get their bearings.

One evening a few months into their travels, just after a wicked blizzard that had Rodney kvetching about leaving behind his best winter fleece, a roar shattered the blanketing stillness of the snow field.

"Holy crap," John squeaked, "it's the Abominable."

"Your nose! We have to cover up your nose," Rodney said frantically, slapping a hand over John's beacon of a schnoz.

"Owb."

"C'mon, we have to go!" Rodney climbed on John's back, his hand still clamped around John's nose, and John started running.

Well, more like slogging. The snow was deep, and John was panting, his breath icing up Rodney's hand. It was disgusting, frankly, and John's little grunts of effort were dismaying. The roars were getting quieter, though, and finally Rodney saw a high snow bank they could dig into to hide in.

"Over there," he yelled.

They burrowed their way in and waited. It was quiet, and Rodney started to forget about being afraid and got bored instead. He was calculating the four hundred and eighty-eighth decimal of pi when he heard dogs barking, and suddenly something grabbed his foot and hauled him out of the snowbank.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?" Rodney demanded, staring up at the big mountain man with the shaggy hair and beard.

"Stupid. You get frost-bit that way."

"Oh, yeah?" John glared at the man too. "Well, you get Abominable-bit the other way."

"Not scared of him," the mountain man said, shrugging. "My name's Ronon Cornelius Dex. I'm a prospector."

Rodney narrowed his eyes, "You mean, like for precious metals? Uranium and the like?"

"Could be." Ronon pulled a knife from his hair and tossed it in the air, then tracked it to where it landed and slid his tongue along the flat of the blade. He shook his head and spat. "Nothin'."

John was eyeing the knife with interest. Rodney said, "We could use your help if you want to join us. We're going to the NPRE."

"Sure. Why not?" Ronon looked away. "I've been alone for a long while. People think I'm a little off." He shrugged. "I'm just me though, you know?"

Rodney and John shared a look, and together they said, "We know."

So they set out, John trotting along beside Ronon's sled, Rodney riding in comfort beneath the furs. It would have been absolutely perfect, if it weren't for that damned Abonimable. It caught up with them shortly into their trip.

"It's my nose! It keeps giving us away," John said, his voice filled with dismay. The beast was right behind them, and for the first time Rodney was truly terrified they would all be consumed. Masticated. Chewed up into little bite-sized pieces and then digested in a horribly revolting manner.

"Don't worry. I know his weakness," Ronon said, using his axe at the edge of the water, and then he pushed them off on a floating sheet of ice. "Bumbles sink," he said with satisfaction as the Abominable did just that when it tried to follow.

"Next stop, the real North Pole."

:::

John knew the others were really nice guys and probably wouldn't say anything, but he was a liability. Sooner or later he would bring total disaster down on them in the form of one very pissed-off and hungry Abominable if he didn't go his own way.

So after they made camp that night, and Rodney and Ronon were sleeping, he hoofed off a little ice block of his own and set sail.

"Good bye, Ronon," John said softly as he drifted away, "I hope you find lots of precious metal stuff. And so long, Rodney. Whatever a theoretical astrophysicist is, I know, someday, you'll be the greatest." A single tear tried to spill from his eye, but he stared resolutely at the distant mountains and thought hard to himself how much he liked the empty snow.

:::

"What I'd like to know is, how could your vaunted prospector instincts have missed the fact one of our number was up and eaten directly from our camp!" Rodney yelled hysterically. "God, he's probably Bumble chow by now!"

"Didn't get eaten. Left on his own." Ronon pointed at something in the snow. "See? Walked right off, made his own ice raft."

"But-but why?"

Ronon gave him a look like he was being stupid, which was very irritating. Rodney was never stupid. "Oh. But we would have figured something out! We could—we could make a trap for the Abominable." Even though his very heart quaked at the thought, Rodney continued, "Yes, that's it exactly. We'll construct a Bumble trap! Come on, we have to find Sheppard!"

Ronon threw his knife in the air, caught it, and then licked the flat. "He's thataway," he said, pointing. "Can you make a sail?"

"Can I—what a dumb question!"

Ronon just smiled and called to the dogs.

:::

Something hard landed on John's head, waking him from his doze. He'd found a pretty nice cave, a place he'd be pretty happy to call home, he thought, and had settled down for a nap. Until this chunk of ice landed on him from nowhere.

"What the hell?" he said, grumbling.

"That's what I said when we realized you'd ditched us, you ingrate! What kind of stupid head deserts his, you know, his-his traveling companions and leaves them on a sheet of ice when they have plans! There were plans and stuff!" Rodney was waving his arms, all red-faced, and when he said 'plans' he made a complicated gesture with his fingers that made John go cross-eyed.

"I—you know why I left," John said. "My nose was getting us into trouble. It always gets me in trouble," he mourned. But secretly, he was totally amazed. They'd come back for him. He didn't know what to think.

"Well, except this time we think your nose will be the perfect way to lure the Abominable into a trap," Rodney said with satisfaction, turning toward Ronon, who nodded. "See, this is how it will work..."

:::

In the end, everything went exactly, precisely according to that McKay guy's plan, except when it really, tragically didn't.

Sheppard's nose beaconed the Bumble in, then he took off flying long enough to flitter around the Bumble's head just out of reach. Meanwhile, Ronon had a great time running around the Bumble's feet with the ropes. He gave the nod to Rodney, who turned the crank that tightened them, and then John alit back to earth and gave the Bumble a couple of good head butts right in his big, white, hairy belly, tripping him back toward the edge of the cliff.

Only the Bumble grabbed John's ear.

Ronon saw it, and for all he hadn't known these weirdos very long, he'd gotten kind of fond of them. He couldn't let John get hurt. So Ronon took a flying leap and smacked away the Bumble's hand, going with him over the edge.

It was a long way down.

:::

"No! Ronon!" John yelled, his heart stopping, the pain in his ear nothing to the pain in his chest. He looked back to see Rodney's terrified eyes. John took a running leap and flew down over the edge of the cliff to land way down at the bottom.

What he found down there amazed him—the Abominable was still alive, with Ronon clasped to his chest. Ronon seemed to be all right; in fact, he was stirring, and looked up at John, a grin on his face.

"Hey. Who knew Bumbles bounced?"

"Ronon!" John charged over. He wanted to butt his forehead against Ronon's, but he'd recently acquired some funny-looking antlers so that was a no-go. Instead, he nuzzled his cheek against Ronon's shoulder.

"Go get Rodney," Ronon said after giving him a pat, and John nodded. With three bounds, John was airborne. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he'd last tried to carry Rodney. He was much, much bigger and stronger now, and probably could.

"Rodney! Rodney, Ronon's okay," John said, landing in front of him.

Rodney's eyes were red, and he shook his head like he didn't want to believe him.

"No, it's true," John said. "Come on—get your pack and climb aboard; I'll take you to him."

"What? Me, fly?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Rodney crossed his arms. "You're not big enough."

"Am, too." John puffed out his chest. "I'm way big now. Haven't you noticed?"

Narrowing his eyes, Rodney looked him over, and then looked a little surprised, his mouth dropping open. "I guess you are. It kind of crept up on me." His jaw firmed up. "Well, all right. But if you get me killed I"ll never, ever forgive you, Sheppard. Not ever."

The trip down went okay, except Rodney grabbed his ears and screamed a little during the initial drop. John's sore ear wasn't too happy about that.

The Abominable was still lying at the bottom, but it was starting to stir, making some gibberish noises instead of roaring as usual.

"Wait. I think I have a translation program in here," Rodney said, pulling out his weird tablet thing with the glowing words on it. "Yes, yes," he muttered, tapping it with his fingers, "I believe I—well, what do you know? Abominables talk!"

"He's saying something?"

"Yes! Here, listen—" Rodney tapped again, and a voice came from the tablet, a little bit louder than the Abominable's mumbles.

"All living creatures must eat. That's no reason to throw someone off a cliff."

Rodney snorted. "Oh, that's very nice."

"Tell him we don't want to get eaten. Oh, and ask him his name."

Rodney tapped some more, and the Abominable's eyes popped open to stare at them, one by one. Ronon had pulled out his biggest knife and was tapping it against his palm significantly. John wasn't too worried about them being attacked again since the ropes were all still tied tight around the Abominable's legs.

"My name is Todd," the tablet said. "You looked like food, especially since this one glowed with the life force."

John's nose flared reflexively.

"I didn't know you could speak," Todd went on. "I try not to eat sentient beings, but sometimes when I'm starving there isn't time to discriminate."

"Yeah, well, that's a hell of a thing," John said. Rodney tapped some more, muttering, "Bunnies aren't very sentient. Why not eat bunnies? There are way, way too many bunnies around here, they're driving me crazy."

"What are these bunnies?"

"They hop around, multiply, take over the natural habitat. Eat the ones with the big, floppy ears, they're the tastiest," Ronon said. He bent down and unfastened the ropes, then started coiling them up.

Todd rose to his feet, and they all backed away a little nervously.

"Where are you going?" Todd said, looking wistful. "Are you leaving?"

"Well, yeah," John said. "We have plans."

"Take me with you? I'm all alone. My people...had no use for me. They don't bother checking in with their prey, you see."

The three of them looked at each other, and then Ronon shrugged, and John followed suit. Rodney hesitated, but finally nodded.

"All right," John said, "but remember, the dogs are our friends, too."

Todd nodded, his blue face earnest, and they all headed off again.

:::

"There is too much water around us," Todd said, shivering. "Why must we travel this way?"

Rodney had gotten tired of being the only typist, so he'd quickly coded some voice recognition software into the tablet, which translated for him when he said, "We're going to the true North Pole, which is on an ice sheet, not on land. We've been over this, blue boy."

"Yes, but—"

"Look, did Ronon not hunt you down a brace of rabbits this morning to stop your grouching? And this raft is at least three feet thick, so there's nothing to worry about, okay? We know what we're doing." Although, Rodney had to admit he was a little nervous himself, because the fog was pretty dense, and navigation was getting a little difficult.

Just then, as if to prove his fears, there was a low, grating shriek, and the ice raft groaned to a halt.

"Rodney?" John said, "I think we're stuck."

"Yes. Very astute, Einstein."

"Who's that?"

"Never mind. Let's take a look, shall we?"

Ronon mushed the dogs and they all tumbled off the raft and broke through the fog to look around.

John was the first to speak. "Where are we?" he asked with wonder in his voice.

"Look," Ronon said, pointing at a castle standing on a mountain of ice. In the sky, Rodney saw what looked like a beast with wings, a crown on its head. He backed away and suddenly felt himself being poked in the back. Spinning around, he found himself confronted by a raggedy doll with brown hair carrying two sticks crossed in front of her, warrior-like.

"Halt," she said fiercely. "Who goes there?"

"Us," Ronon said succinctly.

"Well, that explains everything," she said wryly. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

"I'm Rodney McKay, a theoretical astrophysicist," Rodney said, "and this is John Sheppard, a red-nosed reindeer, and Ronon Cornelius Dex, a prospector, and Todd, an Abominable Snowman. Who are you?"

"I am Teyla Emmagan, the official sentry of the Island of the Misfit Toys." Behind her, a toy train with square wheels popped out of the snow, and an elephant with pink spots soon followed.

"A doll for a sentry?" John asked.

"Yes," she said. "You see the problem. I'm supposed to play dress up, but I prefer to fight with sticks. That is why I'm a misfit toy." She scowled unhappily. Next to her, a sad-faced rowboat listed in the snow.

"Hey, maybe we can stay with you a while. We're all misfits, too," John said.

"You will have to obtain permission from Queen Elizabeth Moonraiser," Teyla said severely.

"Who's she?"

"She rules here. Each night she searches the Earth for misfit toys that have been rejected. She brings them here to live until some little girl or boy wants them. She is holding court in her castle right now."

John and Rodney shared a look, and then gathered Ronon and Todd in. "Let's do it."

:::

Okay. John had to admit Queen Elizabeth was more than a little intimidating with the crown and the giant wings and everything. John wanted to protest that he could fly too, but he didn't have huge claws or fangs. The trumpets didn't help, either.

"Come closer," Queen Elizabeth said in a booming voice. "What do you desire?"

"Your honor," John said, "ma'am. We're some misfits from around Christmas town, and we'd like to hang out here if that's okay."

"No, that would not be possible. This island is for toys alone."

"That's great." Ronon said.

"Oh, I get it," Rodney muttered, and then raised his voice a little, "you mean we aren't misfit _enough_. Only certain kinds of misfits need apply, is that it?"

The Queen's eyebrows drew together. "Living things cannot be allowed to stay on my island. I will give you one night before you must depart." She leaned forward. "But perhaps, being misfits yourselves, you can help the toys here: when you return to Christmas Town, would you tell Santa about our homeless toys? A toy is never truly happy until it has a little child to love it."

John was starting to get pissed. "First my dad, and now you—I don't get it. Why do you think it matters what Santa thinks? Why don't _you_ find little kids for these toys?"

And all of a sudden Rodney was snapping his fingers. "Yes, yes—Your Queenship, if we had a way to help your misfit toys find children to love them, would you be willing to let us stay?"

John held his breath. A place filled with misfits, where they could stay. Where he could belong.

The Queen knitted her brows, and then nodded slowly. "Yes," she boomed. "If you help the misfit toys find homes with little girls and boys, I would allow you to stay. For the toys here are very unhappy, and they grow more every day."

"Well, that's it then," Rodney muttered heavily. "I'll just pull a miracle out of my ass."

"Buck up, Rodney, it's almost Christmas. It's the time of miracles."

:::

"Even if we do find homes for the toys, you realize, we're going to need a way to transport them," Rodney said as he hovered over his Pedialocator. John had argued it was a stupid name, but Rodney had shouted him down saying it was his device, so he got to name it.

"You just leave that up to me," John said. "I'm all over it."

He went to Ronon with the problem, explaining he needed to borrow Ronon's sled and train the dogs on the basics of flight.

"I thought only reindeer fly?"

"Regular reindeer don't. Santa's reindeer do, but that's only because we undergo vigorous training," John explained. "It's nothing but speciesism. There's no reason why your huskies can't learn the basics as well."

Sure enough, after a week of drills, Stackhouse, Ronon's lead dog, and all the others were doing take-off, circuit and landings like the best of Santa's recruits. John felt a thrill of pride as he watched Markham execute a perfect four-paw landing and shake his fur out.

"Way to go, buddy," John said, hoofing over a biscuit. "How's it going on the sled reconstruction?" he yelled over to Todd.

"The sleigh should be prepared within optimal parameters in time for the test flight, John Sheppard," Todd said through Rodney's tablet. "However, I do not believe you will have enough thrust to achieve lift-off, even with the addition of the eight sled dogs."

"Leave that to me," Rodney said, striding up to them. He was carrying some sort of bulky tube with Ronon's help. Attached to it was a complex-looking device.

"What the heck is that?"

"This, my friend, is an overthruster, the first of its kind. And it officially makes me a rocket scientist." Rodney bounced on the toes of his curly shoes.

"What's a rocket scientist?"

"Never mind. Ronon, help me attach this to the sleigh."

"You sure this thing won't blow up? I'm gonna need my sled later, you know." Ronon held out the tools as Rodney connected the thruster to the back of the sleigh.

"You planning on leaving, Ronon?" John felt his stomach cramp, like he'd eaten a pine cone by accident.

Ronon shuffled his feet. "Didn't say that. Just—things don't always work out the way you think."

"They'll work out," John said with more confidence than he felt. "Right, Rodney?"

"Right," Rodney said, sounding as uncertain as John felt. "Come on, let's give this thing a whirl."

John stood at the front of the traces while Ronon and Rodney harnessed them all up. Then Rodney came around in front and said to John, "Okay, now, when I give you the word, I want you to go quarter-power with your nose. Just quarter-power, you hear me? Any more than that and I don't know what will happen."

"You telling me my nose is gonna power this thing?"

"That's right—the thruster has capacitors primed to feed off the power signatures from your proboscis. Isn't that brilliant?"

"Um. If you say so," John said. Rodney clapped him on the shoulder and then climbed aboard the sleigh.

"This is Rodney McKay, giving you a go ahead for take-off. That is a go, John."

John yelled, "Mush, Mush, team!" and started running. The snow churned under his hooves, and he heard the dogs all barking behind him, and then, just as he was about to jump, he gave his nose a little boost—just a touch of glow.

There was a whoosh, and a bang, and all of a sudden they all went flying and tumbling through the air, the sleigh shooting out ahead of them, the dogs and John hanging down below and behind it from the traces, legs tangling and everything spinning and twirling in the air.

John blew chunks.

"Mayday! Mayday!" Rodney yelled. "Belay nose! I repeat, belay the nose!"

John had the presence of mind to ease back slowly on his nose glow, and the sleigh very slowly drifted down. He landed head first in the snow, and heard a muffled series of thumps that he assumed was the other dogs and the sleigh as well.

 _Well, that went great,_ he thought, and passed out.

:::

"So, I admit," Rodney said nervously, staring down at John and the dogs, who were all huddled under blankets in the house Queen Elizabeth had loaned them, "that in my haste to study the theoretical I bypassed some of the non-theoretical portion of my discipline. Physics, that is."

"Uh-huh," John said, rolling his head against the snow pack Ronon had laid out for him.

"But, er, the good news is we obviously don't need the dogs. We can all ride in comfort on the sleigh with just the overthruster as our sole means of propulsion."

"Hmmmph."

Rodney rubbed his hands together. "And I made progress on the Pedialocator while you were, um, resting."

"You mean unconscious."

"Sleeping."

"In a coma."

"Recovering from your ordeal," Rodney said, starting to feel a little put-upon. "Are you quite sure you used only a quarter power?"

"Barely a buzz, actually," John said, narrow-eyed.

"Well, that's good, isn't it? It means we have a lot more to work with."

"Right." But then John seemed to rally. "So, we'll be able to go really fast?"

"Oh. Um, quite fast, actually."

John gave a little smile. "Cool."

:::

"Teyla, we'll need some misfit volunteers for the Pedialocator," John said, feeling a little nervous as he always did before the doll warrior. "Can you recommend someone?"

She gave him an assessing look. "I heard about the accident. Can we expect more of the same?"

"No! Well, we hope not...it's hard to say, though. This is new ground we're treading."

She nodded slowly. "I have just the toys in mind."

:::

The toy soldier gestured to his men and then held his rifle at ease. "Reporting for duty, sir."

"Right." John looked down at him, and said, "I won't pretend there isn't an element of danger in this, soldier. What you're about to try has never been done before. Do you understand the risk?"

"I do, sir."

"And do your men understand, and are they willing to undertake that risk?"

The soldier straightened and tried to look him in the eye. Considering he was only about five inches tall, it was pretty ambitious of him. "They do, sir!"

"Well, all right." John turned to Rodney and said, his voice low, "Rodney, my men are trusting you. Don't mess this up, okay?"

Rodney gave him a look, and turned back to his Pedialocator and flipped a switch. The thing hummed on, and he gave John a nod.

"Okay. Soldier, I want you to tell me what your misfit is so we can focus on finding a child who is your match."

The soldier's face took on a hint more green. "Our weapons, sir. They only shoot grape jelly."

"All right. So instead of cap guns, they're jelly guns," John said, carefully matter-of-fact. "Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right." John focused the misfit thought in his head and gave his nose the tiniest hint of glow, his eye on the machine, praying it wouldn't blow up in his face, or Rodney's, either. Only a few seconds later it started chattering, and then the screen lit up and printed out a few lines.

Rodney spun toward him, his face filled with glee. "'Marla Patterson, 203 Oak Hill Road, Auburn, Texas,'" he read, and pumped his fist against John's hoof.

It was working. They were on their way.

:::

"D'you notice anything weird about these names?" John said, looking at the growing printout. Name after name of misfit kid to match the misfit toys, and they were all familiar from when John had visited Santa's house for dinner that time.

"What? What about them?" Ronon said.

"Well, I happened to be over at Santa's house once—my dad and him are close, you know—"

"What, really?" Rodney looked shocked.

"Yeah, well." John ducked his head. "Didn't keep him from blacklisting me. And it just made my dad try to hide what I am my whole life." John stopped, suddenly appalled at himself. "Anyway," he rushed on, "I snuck a look, and this list—I recognize most of these names from his naughty list. Most of these kids wouldn't have gotten presents for Christmas anyway."

"Really." Rodney looked at the list, then back up at John. "Well, that's it then! We've got to tell Elizabeth."

"Tell her what?"

"That there's a whole audience for her misfit toys that never occurred to her, that's what. Do you think a kid who's not going to get toys even cares whether or not his elephant has spots or not? Or whether her dream Barbie refuses to wear a bathing suit?"

"Good point."

:::

But Queen Elizabeth didn't seem so pleased.

"These children have been naughty?" she said, her voice booming with displeasure.

"According to Santa," Ronon said pointedly. "Who's he to say?"

"Yeah." John nudged up against him in solidarity. "Look, Your Queenness. Santa makes mistakes just like anybody else. He blacklisted me because of my nose. He kicked Rodney out because he wouldn't make toys like a good elf. Santa's only human. These kids, they just want toys to love. You have toys that want to be loved."

Rodney shrugged. "Seems like an obvious equation."

Ronon nodded and folded his arms.

Queen Elizabeth regarded them all, and then her mighty wings fluttered once and her mouth gaped a little in a smile. It made her fangs show, which gave John a weird moment, but then she laughed.

"All right, my misfits. You have my permission. Go, gather the toys. Christmas Eve awaits."

:::

"I suppose you'll be finding a little boy or girl to be with now," John said to Teyla. "You have that chance, now."

She smiled wryly and shook her head. "That was an old dream. I have a new one now, and a place here. These are now my people."

John found himself smiling broadly. He knew just what she meant.

:::

So this was it. Todd wanted to come, but he would have taken up too much room on the sleigh, so he had to be happy helping with the loading and the weight distribution, which it turned out he had a real talent for.

Teyla had been Toy Volunteer Coordinator all along, but now she gave them their instructions and directed them into their various color-coded, labeled containers.

Ronon was the one with the throwing arm. They'd decided it would take too much time to stop and unload for each delivery, so they were just going to toss each toy down the available unlit chimney or, failing that, through an open window or mail slot. The toys would have to make their way to the children's rooms and/or stockings.

Rodney kept the list, and John was chief propulsion and flight navigator.

His heart was beating so hard before take-off he could feel it in the tips of his ears, which were standing up straight from his head.

"Take off in five, four, three, two, one," Rodney said, "Go, go, go!"

John took off.

:::

Rodney was profoundly amazed—both at how well everything was going, but also that he hadn't stroked out in sheer fright from John's flying antics.

John was harnessed directly onto the sleigh and using his flying capabilities to direct them, propelling them by means of his nose and swooping and diving them from location to location based on Rodney's directives. But every so often he would do a maneuver that was patently unnecessary just for the sheer joy of it, and then let out a whoop that could be heard back in Christmas Town.

It was making Rodney's stomach lurch.

"Where next?" John yelled over the wind.

"This one's for Jung-Hui Wang in Chengdu, China." Rodney leaned back and called to Ronon, "Tell the parrot that swims he's up!"

This was awesome.

:::

It was inevitable, John figured, but still, he was surprised when, around oh-three-hundred, they ran into the Big Guy.

"What in tarnation!" was the first thing John heard, and a second later the jingle-bells registered, and then his dad was there flying alongside and yelling in his ear.

"John Angus Blitzen Sheppard, what the blazes do you think you're doing!"

"Same thing you are, pops," John yelled back, "Only a lot faster!"

"Yeah, and with more style, too," Rodney added. John grinned at him.

Ronon just flipped the bird at the other sleigh.

"Donner, you tell those miscreants to get out of my airspace. They're ruining Christmas!"

"Actually, we're _making_ Christmas for a few thousand children, not to mention the toys that need them. So, fuck off, fat man," Rodney said, and nudged John in the shoulder.

John took the cue and dived down toward Christchurch, New Zealand, where young Gregory Key was hoping to get a Transformer that could turn into a fake bowl of pudding.

:::

"Oh, my God, that was amazing," Rodney said when they landed, all their containers empty.

John was wiped. He didn't think his nose could glow if they stuffed a cattle prod up his ass.

"We did good," Ronon said.

"You did," Queen Elizabeth said, Teyla and Todd by her side. They and the other misfits who had chosen to remain—like Charlie-in-the-box, who said he was too old and cranky to be around children—were all standing in the clearing to greet their triumphant return.

"Thank you all for a job well done."

"Does this mean we can eat cake now? I'd really like some cake," Rodney said.

"You deserve it, buddy," John said, giving Rodney a nudge.

"Yes, Rodney," Elizabeth said indulgently. "There's cake. I'm afraid, though, by tomorrow morning there will be more misfits to join us." Her chin dipped. "There are always more misfits."

"Later," John said, exhausted. "We'll think about it later."

:::

Ronon had had a good time with his friends. But the let down afterward was kind of harsh. Christmas only came once a year. What was he supposed to do the rest of the time?

The other guys had things to do. John had to train daily and help Rodney. Rodney had his experiments and devices. Teyla had the perimeter, and Todd, well, he liked to eat.

Ronon was a prospector. He was a tracker and a hunter and an explorer. Here on the island, though, there wasn't a lot of exploring to do.

He liked the people here, but maybe it was time to think about moving on.

:::

"I'm just saying, new misfits are coming in daily. That's what Elizabeth does, after all—goes out and brings them in." John was pacing back and forth, which Rodney found annoying because the little house wasn't really made for it, what with the dogs sleeping by the fireplace and Rodney's tool table laid out and everything.

"Would you quit pacing around and come sit over here on the chair I made you special?"

"It's a nice chair. I'm not saying it's not a nice chair," John grumbled, but came and sat down next to Teyla. The chair was the perfect height for him to set his forelegs on the table so he could watch Rodney work. Ronon was already eating lunch, quietly, as usual. Or maybe even more quietly than usual. Rodney was a little worried about him, to tell the truth.

"What's got you guys so upset, anyway? Things went splendidly. Now we get to relax and fiddle with perfecting things until next year."

John pointed a hoof at him. "Next year! That's it exactly. We have to wait a whole year! I'll go nuts if I have to do that."

Ronon grunted agreement.

"There are already many new toys. The Queen brought in five this morning," Teyla said softly.

"Right!" John said. "The toys'll go nuts, too. It's not like they have much to do until then. And anyway, there _are_ other holidays, you know. It's not like Santa's got a lock on 'em. For crying out loud, Hanukkah's still going on right now—it's not over until the 28th."

Ronon's mustache perked up.

"I mean, we could take the misfits out tonight! Give them to some naughty Jewish kids. What's stopping us? Hell, Kwanzaa, birthdays..." John petered off sounding out of breath, his nose glowing faintly.

The device Rodney was working on gave a faint chirrup as if it agreed with him.

Rodney frowned and put down his screwdriver. "But that would make it a full-time job, practically."

"Well, yeah." John lowered his head and peered up at him through his eyelashes. "What're we talking about? Why are we really here, anyway?"

Rodney stared at him, then glanced over at Ronon, who raised his eyebrows right back. They both turned to Teyla, who smiled serenely, and then they all looked at John, who started to grin, his nose glowing, then glowing brighter, then brighter still.

"Well, all _right_ ," John said softly.

And Rodney had to laugh, and agree.

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Chunks of dialog and plot thieved from _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ by Rankin/Bass. Foul language is mine. [Watch the original](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDuHKcdXUIk&feature=related) if you prefer.
> 
> I apologize profusely to Luna and all the other sentient bunnies out there. Todd subsists on a diet of plot bunnies, only.
> 
> Name the secret action movie quote and win valuable prizes?


End file.
